I Solemnly Swear that I Am Up to No Good
by Charlotte Steele
Summary: A collection of one shots featuring mostly Ron W./Hermione G. or Fred W./Hermione G. Most will be romance/humor, but I never know what will inspire me next! Current fic: Jitters - Ron W./Hermione G. *Now girls, nothing is more important than the first impression on your big night!*
1. Butterflies

"What are you doing?" Hermione exclaimed as she was forcibly dragged into a dark broom closet on the fourth floor.

"Quiet! We'll get caught." The kidnapper replied in a hushed yet unmistakably deep voice.

"No, _you'll_ get caught! I'm simply a victim of unfortunate circumstance," But she lowered her voice anyway. Although Hermione was fairly sure she knew who her captor was, it was unnervingly black in the small closet. She pulled her wand out of her robes and whispered, "Lumos."

The tip of her wand glowed brightly illuminating the enclosed space, as well as her captor, with a soft blue glow.

"Fred Weasley. I knew it!" Although Hermione tone was stern, she found herself unable resist the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Of course, this was nothing compared the brilliant grin overtaking the face of her ginger-haired boyfriend standing in front of her.

"Put that thing out. They'll see it. Besides," He added with a dashing crooked smile and a wink that awoke the dormant butterflies in Hermione's stomach, "It's ruining the atmosphere."

She reluctantly returned the wand to her robes, "What are you doing?" She asked again.

"Now that's better isn't it," She could hear another wink in his voice.

"What are you doing?" Hermione inquired for a third time.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Fred breathed sending shivers down her spine. He had somehow managed to silently orient himself directly behind her.

She unsuccessfully attempted to keep her voice steady as the already awakened butterflies began preforming somersaults, "Stop avoiding my question, Fred," Hermione found that she was now glad for the darkness in the room that was hiding the fierce blush coloring her cheeks.

"I simply wanted a snog before class," Fred answered, his voice returning to its usual mischievous quality.

"Fred!" She shouted raising her voice again.

"Shh!" Fred hissed.

"Sorry… I'm a prefect Fred. I can't be caught snogging between lessons."

"The word is _prefect_ not _perfect_. Come on, just a little snog?" He pleaded.

Hermione sighed, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to withstand him for long, "Fine," She took a small step forward giving him a quick peck on the cheek before trying to exit the closet.

Fred grabbed her wrist and scoffed, "You call that a snog? That doesn't even count as a kiss!"

She could feel her frustration growing, "It was too a kiss, now let me go!"

"Not until I get a proper snog!" She could hear Fred sniggering at her irritation.

Now her anger really began to boil over. She wheeled to face him, "You want a snog, Fred?" She said dangerously, "I'll give you a snog."

At that, Hermione stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her hand around his neck, and crashed her lips into his. After his initial shock, Fred braced a hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in deepening the kiss. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck while he moved his free hand to rest on her hip. He somehow managed to pull her even closer as his other hand wound its way into her mane of hair.

Hermione was overtaken by a wave of passion. The butterflies were gone, as well as the school girl blush. She had always been plagued by names like Hermione the bookworm, Hermione the nerd, Hermione the know-it-all, but right now she was just Hermione and he was simply Fred. She had never felt so free in her entire life.

Although she wished she could stay lost in his arms forever, only a moment later the charging sound of hundreds of students rushing to class brought her harshly back to reality. She sighed, moved her hands to Fred's chest and pushed lightly. He didn't budge.

Hermione rolled her eyes and spoke into the kiss, "E ave o ge o cass."

"Hmgph?" He grunted.

Hermione turned her head causing Fred to move his lips to her neck, "We have to get to class,"

She repeated breathlessly.

"Really?" He whispered into her neck extracting a violent shiver.

"Yes," She managed firmly.

"Alright," Fred moved from her neck, opening the door to the hallway, "After you, my dear."

"Thank you," Hermione said squinting from the drastic change in lighting.

"You know," Fred began, "It's a good thing you were born with messy hair."

She gasped, moving her hands to her hair, " It doesn't _feel_ any different."

"My point exactly," Fred winked, her favorite crooked smile making a reappearance. He turned, making his way down the hall and leaving behind a whole cartload of acrobatic butterflies fluttering incessantly through Hermione's insides.


	2. Nightmare

**This one took me forever to write. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but here you go!**

* * *

It has been two weeks since Hermione arrived at number 12, Grimmauld place, and she liked it no better than she had on her first day. It was a dreary, disgusting old place filled to the brim with stubborn relics, but that wasn't the worst part. Hermione disliked the evenings even more. Ever since the night of the final task, she had been haunted by the image of Harry holding Cedric's limp body. For the past 16 nights, she had been forced to relive this moment in her nightmares. Each time Harry returned with a different student, and each time she woke in a cold sweat unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

Hermione knew tonight would be no different. She dragged herself to bed, completely exhausted and pulled the blankets high up to her neck, searching for some sense of security. She fought her eyelids as long as she could, but eventually they won out pulling her immediately into a deep sleep. Much too soon, she found herself sitting in the bleachers of the all too familiar scene. She looked at all of the excited faces of the students anxiously awaiting the return of the champion. She saw Dumbledore looking almost as care free as her peers and Moody who stood fidgeting next to the benches. Before long, she heard the ominous sound of Harry returning with the port key. She strained to see Harry through the students now standing in front of her. She finally caught a glimpse of him and, with that, her first look at Voldemort's new victim.

"RON!" She screamed. Hermione shot up, breathless. "_It's not real, it never happened_" she attempted to convince herself. Glancing to the other side of the room, she saw Ginny sound asleep curled around Crookshanks. Neither of them seemed disturbed by her shouting. "_It must have been part of my dream,_" she concluded, "_Ron's not dead, he's sleeping. It was just a dream,_" but she couldn't seem to calm her pounding heart.

"_No, Hermione,_" She scolded, "_You do not need to go downstairs to see if he is really alright,_" yet before she knew what had happened, she found herself in her robe and slippers. She retrieved her wand and snuck downstairs. "Alohomora" She whispered. No one left their door unlocked in this place. Not with Kreature lurking at all hours of the night. Hermione slipped through the door shutting it softly behind her.

She crept to the bed and looked over Ron's sleeping figure. The young witch breathed a sigh of relief as she saw his chest rise and fall. "_You should leave now,_" She told herself as she sat on the bed closest to Ron and drew her knees to her chest. She couldn't get the image of Ron's open, unseeing eyes out of her head, the way his head hung a little too far to the left or the sound of Harry's anguished screams. She felt a drop of water hit her hand and hoped the house hadn't started leaking. The drops continued to fall. She brought her hand to her face, realizing that the water was actually her tears. Just then, a picture in the corner of the room let out a blood curdling scream followed by a hysterical peal of laughter. Hermione gasped, looking frantically around the room for somewhere to hide.

"_What would Ron say if he saw me here!_" She clutched the bed, eyes widening, when she saw Ron sit up. His wand was already pointing toward the picture. His attention shifted and he whipped his body to face her.

"Who's there!" He called out to her.

"It's me," She managed through her tears.

"Me who?" Ron said, fear apparent in his voice

"It's me, Hermione," She managed through tears.

"Oh..." Ron lowered his wand, " Wait, what are you doing in my room?" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Umm" she said lamely, trying desperately to think of good reason for her presence in the boy's bedroom. For once, her mind was blank. Despite her best efforts, an audible sniffle slipped through her stifled sobs.

"Hermione?" Ron questioned, his voice softening, "Are you crying?"

She opened her mouth, expecting a firm "no" to come out, but nothing came. She rose from the bed and was about to leave when Ron touched her hand.

"Why are you crying?"

Hermione looked to the door, intent on leaving. Her legs, however, had much different intentions. Instead of moving towards the door, they turned and brought her to Ron's bed. She could barely make him out in the darkness, but just seeing his face looking up at her brought on a fresh wave of tears. She threw herself down on the bed next to him and buried her face in his chest.

At first Ron was so stiff it was as if she was hugging the bed frame itself, but after a few minutes he wrapped his arms tightly around her. He stayed silent, stroking her hair from time to time until her sobs receded.

"Why were you crying?" He ventured.

"You were dead."

"I'm right here, Hermione."

"I know, but you _were_ dead."

"I mean I know I'm a heavy sleeper, but…"

"In my dream," Hermione sighed, she had begun to forget how daft Ron could be sometimes. "It was you instead of Cedric that night. I've been seeing different a student every night," She cringed as every dead student she has seen over the last two weeks flashed in front of her eyes, "I can't stop thinking that it really could have been anyone. It could've been you, could still be you. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named won't stop killing until he's dead. I don't want anyone I love to die. Especially you," Hermione finished with a whisper.

"Not a night goes by when I don't think about what might happen to all of us, but the point is that no one knows how long they have to live. Dark Lord or not, any of us could die at any time. It all comes down to the fact that you need to live for what you have now, do as much as you can and enjoy every minute of it. But Hermione," Ron moved his hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, "The one thing I do know, is that I'm not going down without a fight."

Hermione clasped her arms around Ron's neck. He pulled her into his lap and held her silently. She wasn't sure how long she sat curled in his embrace. At some point, she felt herself moved so she was lying on the bed, her head on his pillow. She was worried that he might leave her, but instead he lay behind her, his arm resting over her waist. The last thing Hermione could remember before she drifted off into a sweet, dreamless sleep, was the gentle touch of Ron's lips on her cheek. She found herself thinking that maybe Number 12, Grimmauld Place wasn't so retched after all.


	3. Jitters

**This idea simply amused me. The next will be another Fred W./Hermione G. I'm playing with a title of Love Bite****. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Hermione looked back to the mirror one last time. She took a deep breath, thinking back on a muggle book she had borrowed from the library.

_*Now girls, nothing is more important than the first impression on your big night!_*

Hermione looked everywhere in the mirror but her own eyes, knowing that they would be clouded with fear.

*_If this night does not live up to expectation, it could cost you your man!_*

Although she had spent at least the last hour in the restroom, Hermione decided that one last look over could only help. Leaning towards the mirror, she examined the makeup covering her eyes. The small amount of eye shadow and mascara she had applied felt heavy and unnatural.

*_First things first, your eyes. They must be soft, yet sultry. Natural, yet perfect: as though you were born looking that way. Your eyelashes should be petable._*

Hermione brushed her finger against her lashes for about the hundredth time that night. As it turned out, she had no idea what "petable" eyelashes were supposed to feel like. She shook her head, continuing through her mental checklist.

*_To ensure perfectly kissable lips, you should apply a generous amount of lip balm at least 10 minutes before being kissed. No one likes a sticky lip!_*

She dabbed her lips with the tip of her finger. They didn't feel particularly sticky. "At least that's one thing that seems right," she thought. Hermione decided to skip the next item on the checklist. She wasn't quite willing to face that one yet.

*_As for your feet. Your toes should be polished, and under no circumstances should you ever wear socks!_*

Hermione glanced down to her sock-clad feet. She hurriedly yanked them off her feet, stowing the undesirables in a nearby drawer. She gazed down at her freshly polished toes. Check. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. She knew the last item was now inevitable.

*_When it comes to lingerie, the most important thing is to show your body to its best advantage! Be sure to leave at least a little to his imagination. You want him to lust after the rest of your delectab..._*

She cut off the rest of the sentence, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt utterly and completely exposed. She tugged at the corners of the lingerie, which seemed to have become the size of a doily, in a futile attempt to cover as much as possible. As the nerves crawled their way up her throat, tears sprang into her eyes. She couldn't do this.

She jumped at the sudden knock on the door, "Hermione?" Ron called, "You alright in there?"

Her breath sped up. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She opened her mouth to tell him she was just fine and would be out in a moment, but no words came.

"Hermione?" This time, his voice was shaky. She thought It almost sounded as though he was nervous. Without thinking she moved to the door and leaned against it, her hand resting on the door knob, "I wish you would quit fussing and just come out. You're perfect just the way you are. Every day I wonder how I ever got so lucky. How on earth a man like me ended up with a smart, talented…" Ron hesitated for a moment before he continued, "beautiful woman like you is beyond me."

Hermione looked up at herself in the mirror, a wobbly smile making its way to her lips and brand new tears of joy prickling her eyes. It all seemed so silly now.

"Please, just come ou…" Ron began, but before he could finish, Hermione had flung open the door and rushed into his arms.

Later that night, once Ron had dozed off, Hermione laughed at her apprehension earlier that night. Shortly after she exited the restroom, she realized that her fussing had been a huge waste of time. In less than five minutes, her makeup was completely gone, her lips were otherwise occupied, and as for her lingerie, well she might as well have not worn any at all!

Hermione found herself considering the notion that: while books may contain the answer to most questions, it's possible that they don't have the answer to every question. She decided that if she could make her own addition to that muggle book's checklist, it would read something like this:

*_All you brand new brides out there, it's time for the most important piece of advice... Forget everything you just read and enjoy your wedding night with the man who loves you no matter how petable your eyelashes are, how sticky your lips are, and whether or not you are wearing socks!_*


End file.
